8 Spring Street
[A, C to Clinton/Washington Avenue]
This should probably begin with my admission that I am what you could call a shopping enabler. Out in Rome, my friend and I resolved to stop snacking and shopping, given that each of us suffered from one of the aforementioned vices. Well, after about a week we felt that we'd succeeded ... in trading our bad habits. So we gave up and decided to snack and shop with wild abandon. Which was medium to very ugly.
Fast forward to a leisurely stroll down some avenue (Spring Street), en route to somewhere JP thought he was going. In the end we never got there - JP got distracted by the bright colors in the tiny clothier I'm about to describe.
Duncan Quinn is much larger than it appears from the outside and once inside, we were greeted by a charming man in a handlebar moustache; fortunately, there were no train tracks to tie me to so I didn't fear for my safety. Anyway, so JP tried on a shirt of my choosing (his skin tone is kind of tan so he looks good in ice blue) while I hid behind one of the magazines in which Duncan Quinn has been featured (GQ, Details, Esquire, etc - basically, all the mens'magazines I love the most). So he tries on the shirt - looks good, very good; so good that I literally "D'you want to try on a suit, maybe? Because I like your shorts and all, but they don't really do the shirt justice," I offered. And promptly went back to hiding behind my magazine. When I looked up, JP looked like a million bucks - which is roughly what the whole outfit would have cost. (I'm slightly exaggerating, but between the suit, shirt and cufflinks, we were talking about ... $1300?)
So he got the shirt, and the cufflinks, and a card. Which I am, virtually, passing on to you.